For Her (The Girl I Loved Duet 1)

He seems so sure about what he wants—about us. I wish I could feel that sure about anything anymore. There’s so much he doesn’t know, and I don’t know how to tell him. I don’t know how to say that everything seems dangerous and thin and like it could disappear at any moment, because that’s what happens when the career you’ve built came about by random chance, among other things.

I move my leg the wrong way and I hiss in pain. This is stupid. I was stupid. Couldn’t have just walked off set at a normal pace, I had to fucking run because I was afraid of an awkward conversation. Now I have to deal with this.

“Are you okay?” Gloria asks, noticing my pain. “Can I get you anything?”

“I’m all right,” I say, sighing. “I’ve already taken as many painkillers as I’m allowed to. I’m mostly beating myself up for being a clumsy idiot.”

Gloria rolls her eyes. “It could have happened to anyone.”

“But it didn’t,” I say. “It happened to me. Go figure.”

“You’ll be okay in a few days,” she says, putting her hand briefly on my shoulder.

There’s a murmur on set, and I look over to see that Peter is here. We’re going to film him waking up, so he’s wearing a robe open enough to show a hint of chest and it makes my mouth go dry with want, with need that I can feel settling in my gut. This is going to be an impossible day.

As if he can read my mind, he turns and looks right at me, giving me a small wave. Heaven help me, I’m going to catch on fire.

“He’s doing really well,” Gloria says. “I was a little nervous when they cast him, because he’s so new. But he’s nailed every shot.”

“Yes, he has.” I agree.

He walks onto the set and takes off the robe, handing it to the wardrobe assistant, and Gloria gasps beside me. “Not to mention that. God, I wish I knew if he was single. I follow all the gossip blogs, and he’s never in any of them. It’s like damn, I need some information!” She laughs. “Certainly doesn’t seem to be living that L.A. life.”

I laugh softly. “Yeah, he’s always been like that. A little quiet. The L.A. life was never going to be his style.”

It takes a second for me to realize that I’ve said that out loud. The fact that Peter and I knew each other before this isn’t common knowledge, and the fact that we were together is even less. I would call it a secret, but it’s not something I want making it to those gossip blogs that Gloria was just talking about. Shit.

The awed silence coming from beside me is all I need to know that Gloria didn’t miss my little slip up. Dammit. “You two knew each other before this?” she says quietly. “Really? How? What happened?”

“I just mean that he seems quieter than most stars,” I say, trying to do just a tiny bit of damage control.

Gloria’s eyes are wide. “But that’s not what you said, you said ‘he’s always been like that.’ How long have you known him?”

My assistant director gives me a thumbs up. We’re ready to shoot. “Make sure everything is ready to go,” I tell her.

“But—”

“Gloria,” I say softly. “Let it go.”

She blinks, and realizes how much she was prying. I’m not angry with her. She’s young and a little star stuck, but I’m not ready to have her be my confidante like that. I feel bad that I don’t trust her, but I don’t really trust anyone in L.A. It’s common for people to pass on information, even when it’s damaging, so they can look like they’re in the know.

“Okay,” she says, moving away to make sure the cameras and lights are ready. She gives me a thumbs up and I call out to Peter. “You ready?”

He beams at me. “Yes ma’am!”

Climbing into the bed, he settles himself into false sleep, and the sight of him distracts me. I remember times when I would wake up with him, and he looked like that. Peaceful and relaxed and perfect. But I push the thoughts away. “Action!”

Peter lies in bed, acting as if he’s having a nightmare. Then he sits straight up in the bed, breathing hard, and I swear that he’s sweating. I’m not sure how he pulled that off, but the footage is amazing.

Since we want the show to be as technically good as possible, we’re doing this sequence in one shot, so I watch as Peter throws off the blankets and scrubs his face with his hands, trying to clear the nightmare from his head. He looks…haunted, and I wonder what it is he’s using to put himself in that state.

He gets up and walks through the set of his apartment, and the camera follows, sees him enter the bathroom, splash water on his face. After staring at himself for a beat in the mirror, he drops the boxers and gets into the shower. The water steams, and we can’t see him, but we get enough of a look from behind that any sane person’s mouth would water.